


Eleanor's Birthday

by presidenthomewrecker



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Gen, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 11:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16136636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/presidenthomewrecker/pseuds/presidenthomewrecker
Summary: It's Eleanor's birthday, and Subject Delta is going to give her the best day possible.





	Eleanor's Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> My friend Allen commissioned me to do this because he really likes the Little Sisters and wants to see them safe and happy.

1957.

April 5th.

There are few things Subject Delta knows. There are fewer things he knows outside of protecting Eleanor. But there’s one thing he knows for sure. Eleanor’s birthday.

April 5th.

Eleanor’s body goes rigid, her eyes alight with a sudden hunger. “ADAM, Daddy!’ she gasps, excitingly tugging at his hand. Does she remember it’s her birthday? Does she not know or not care? The importance of the date is pulsing through the psychic bond, almost like it’s asking him to remember for her.

Delta shakes his head to the best of his ability, but it’s hard to do without moving his entire body.

From the way her brow furrows, though, it seems he got the point across. Curiously, she trails behind him.

Fort Frolic is flooded with people. Aristocrats and common people sweep by. Their scattered conversations whirl around him, almost enough to make a full conversation.

_“Have you heard?”_

_“Sander Cohen’s latest protégé!”_

_“His first recital!”_

_“I hope he doesn’t fail too badly.”_

Delta sweeps Eleanor onto his shoulders and makes his way toward the stairway.

The crowd thins around Delta. Despite the audio messages, the promotional pieces, and anything else Andrew Ryan could ask Sander Cohen to write, people still hate the Big Daddies, and they hate the Alpha Series most of all. The Bouncers, they could tolerate. The Rosies were fine in small doses, but the very large, very intimidating, very _human_ Alpha Series were an entirely different story.

“Oh, God, I think I caught a glimpse of its eyes,” a woman mutters. She and the woman next to her break into a hushed conversation, one that Delta can’t hear the rest of. He proceeds upstairs.

“Daddy, where are we going?” Eleanor asks. “The ADAM’s over there.” She leans forward, into his field of vision, and almost falls off his shoulders in the process. She points to his left, downstairs.

Delta pats her head, if only to placate her worries.

People continue to duck out of the way as Delta navigates through Fleet Hall. Some carefully position themselves near the exits, in the areas closest to Health Stations. Others subconsciously reach for their concealed weapons—no one will admit it, but everyone’s armed to the teeth in Rapture.

From his periphery, Delta sees the man tending bar whip his head in their direction. He opens his mouth, but he quickly thinks better of it.

Still, Eleanor doesn’t notice them. On some days, Delta wonders if she even realizes these people are here, since she pays them so little attention. Nonetheless, he wields his drill with a degree of aggression. He’s not above a fight if necessary.

Eleanor gasps as they enter the theater area. Maybe it’s the pure size of the area, but it finally clicks with her what Delta’s planning.

“Daddy, are we going to watch the piano man?” she asks. She squeals and breaks into a dash down the aisle, leaving a smattering of disgusted murmurs in her wake. “I want to sit close!”

Delta follows. The spot she’s chosen is about as close as she could possibly get without having to strain her neck to look up at the pianist, barely behind the front row of spectators. People in the second row stare disdainfully at her as she sits on the floor, legs tucked underneath her, just like she was taught to sit.

“Daddy, it’s no fair to the audience if you keep standing!” she chides. She pats the spot beside her, and Delta has no choice but to sit beside her.

He sits awkwardly, his legs stretched in front of him. His diver’s suit wasn’t made for sitting—or anything other than combat, for that matter.

It’s not long before Eleanor’s patting his hand, trying to get his attention.

“Sit crisscross applesauce, Daddy,”

As the lights dim, Eleanor flashes a final smile at Delta, and the joy in her eyes speaks volumes.

A single spotlights swings from the rafters, casting a sudden, harsh illumination over the man seated at the piano. His hands shake as he puts them to the piano, but his hesitation barely lasts a moment before he falls into the rhythm of the piece.

Delta’s never been one for music, but there’s something about the notes that stir something inside of him. What this is, perhaps he’ll never know, but he doubts it matters. All that really matters is the way Eleanor gasps and coos at the performance. When the pianist’s song comes to a close, she claps as loudly as her little hands can manage.

“My God, Sander Cohen does it again,” the man in the front of them mutters. His companion nods, throwing a disgusted glance over his shoulder at the two of them. Thankfully, Eleanor doesn’t notice.

Their next stop is one of the shops.

They’re heading in the direction of ADAM. Delta can tell by Eleanor’s general excitement, but he has to keep her from doing her job for at least five more minutes.

This time, when they start moving in the opposite direction of the corpse, Eleanor doesn’t say anything.

When Delta enters the tiny toy shop, every occupant immediately clears out. He and Eleanor have spent enough time in Fort Frolic for every citizen to be aware of their presence—and hide accordingly.

Eleanor watches from over Delta’s shoulder as he picks up a teddy bear. The teddy bear is simple, with light brown fur and a purple bow. “Happy Birthday!” is written on the bow in gold lettering. It’s perfect.

He takes it over to the cashier, a young, terrified man who can’t be older than twenty. Judging by the rapid, frightened looks he keeps giving in the direction of the back room, his manager must have volunteered him for working the counter.

The cashier opens his mouth to say something, but Delta cuts him off by dropping a lump of sum of cash onto the counter.

“I…” the cashier trails off. His eyes dart back and forth from Delta, to the teddy, to Eleanor, to the pile of money. “I’ll get you your change, sir.”

Delta lifts his hand, politely telling the man to stop.

The poor cashier’s shaking. “Thank you, sir. H-have a nice day,” he says, but it turns into a question at the end.

Delta takes the bear and turns to Eleanor. From behind him, he can hear the cashier vault over the counter to hide in the back room.

Eleanor swipes the bear into a hug, hoping on the balls of her feet. “Thank you, Daddy!” She does a spin, only to be brought to a stop. She scrutinizes the ribbon carefully. “It’s my birthday…” she mutters, halfway between doubt and confusion, but the feeling only crosses her face for a moment before she shakes it off. “Come on, Daddy,” Eleanor chides. “We’ve wasted enough time already.”

Delta obligingly offers his massive hand, scooping her up onto his shoulders. But as she settles on his shoulder, she leans over and presses a kiss to the left side of the glass panel, like she’s trying to kiss his cheek.

“Angels don’t wait for slowpokes.”

**Author's Note:**

> heyo so i've got a [tumblr](http://president-homewrecker.tumblr.com/post/170243158376/hey-guys-i-have-a-really-really-awesomely) if you're interested


End file.
